


Street Underwear

by ririnaX



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-18
Updated: 2011-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ririnaX/pseuds/ririnaX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite what most of people think, Ichigo is a gentle creature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Street Underwear

**Author's Note:**

> Nnoi/Ichi, cross-dressing.

The thump of the music made his whole body want to bounce, and the vibrations it caused in the bar-stool he was sitting on made him pretty horny. He just hoped his boyfriend would return from the bathroom already. He wanted to dance so much that his mostly bare legs were jerking up and down to the beet. Just as he thought of standing up to go and fetch his boyfriend a long bare arm wrapped itself around his waist, the other one going down his skirt-covered hip and to his knee, the hand slightly moist form washing.

"Took you long enough," Ichigo said, leaning back into his boyfriend's chest. "I want to dance, Nnoi."

He heard the man behind him chuckle, bending a little to kiss his temple. "Oh yes, I can see your legs are quite energetic." He pulled Ichigo to the dance-floor, picking an area with less people. He didn't like sweaty people touching him, especially women. The only touch he liked was Ichigo's. The young man's skin was always so soft and clean, and his clothes were also from soft materials.

They moved to the rhythm, just following their bodies' needs in direction. They never bothered to look as a part of the crowd, and Nnoitra tried to practice with Ichigo some tango moves that they'd seen last weekend on a video, but the soles of Ichigo's shoes and the floor refused to cooperate. Then the DJ put a slower song and the two lovers settled for an all familiar pattern of swaying from left to right, from right to left.

Ichigo wrapped his arms around Nnoitra's waist and rested his head on his lovers chest. Even the four-inch heels of his pumps wouldn't make up for the height difference. But Ichigo didn't mind that. The only thing that mattered was that Nnoitra loved him the way he was and never doubted his masculinity when he was cross-dressing. Of coarse, he was rough and rude, a threatening aura around his almost seven feet frame half of the time. But with Ichigo he was never more rough or rude that the young man wanted.

Yes, Ichigo loved rough sex, he liked wearing short skirts and heels, but that part of his life was more intimate than anything and it was for the two of them only. None of his previous lovers respected that. It was kind of sad how close-minded most of people was. He wore women clothes not because he wanted to be a woman, people do operations for that purpose. No. Come to think of it, it all started after his mother's death. He spent a lot of time sitting on the floor or on the bed surrounded by her clothes, jewelry and other things, while his father was at work and sisters at school. Even when they found out about this, no one dare forbid him doing this, lest he would cry, getting almost hysteric. When he grew older he learned to live with her loss. And when he grew big enough to fit in her clothes he tried some on and didn't feel awkward. In fact, he looked just like her, but with shorter straight hair, and with a different curve of lips.

"What's with the sad face, princess?" he heard the question from above his head. He looked up to find Nnoitra very close to his face, brows curled in a frown. He shook his head in answer, tugging his loves closer, standing on tip toes to close the distance between their faces, lips catching each other in a kiss.

"Cheer up, princess, or I'll take you back home," Nnoitra said after they broke apart. He tugged on the fabric of Ichigo's long-sleeved purple t-shirt where it bunched up to reveal the small of the orangette's back.

“Then take me home,” Ichigo gave his lover a coy smile. As much as he wanted to dance before Nnoitra returned, now he was even more horny from his lover's touch that from the thump of the music.

“You sure? You seemed so eager to come to this party. Make up your mind already.”

“Yeah, I want home.”

*-*-*

The midnight air was cool, when they walked out of the club, turning in the direction of their home. The heels of Ichigo's shoes clattered on the pavement. They walked hand in hand, not bothering to talk. The sky above them was almost black, littered in shiny stars that seemed to blink from time to time.

Soon they were approaching their apartment building, a beautiful eight-story construction that was built nearly a century ago. There were no tiny rooms or corridors in that building. They ascended the monumental-looking stairs to the sixth floor to their apartment which consisted of three bed-rooms, the living-room aside, a kitchen and two bathrooms. Not that the two of them needed so much space, but it was a kind of luxury one could afford with a job like Nnoitra's and it was nice.

As soon as they were in, Ichigo found himself pinned to the door, with a pair of warm lips against his. He opened his mouth, inviting a deeper kiss, and threaded his fingers into Nnoitra's long silky raven-black hair. Hand roamed his body, as if inspecting every curve and every muscle, fueling his desire even more. His lover then lifted him up, and Ichigo had to curl his toes not to loose his shoes. They were moving to somewhere, but Ichigo didn't care as long as it wouldn't postpone their usual night activities.

When Ichigo felt cool air hit his unclothed skin, he was put back down on the ground and spun around to meet the view of night city. So, they were doing it outside on terrace tonight? Ichigo shivered at the prospect of someone watching them, the little exhibitionist in him stirring. He knew for sure that there were perverted old man and some women, living in the neighboring houses, that loved watching live porn. And Ichigo liked to give them a show. Strangely, it gave him a feeling of power over those creatures; they could watch, but they couldn't touch. Even the pleasure of seeing his naked body was under his control, because he knew Nnoitra would never force him into something he didn't want.

Oh, and how he loved the terrace. It was as spacious as any other room in their apartment, and they used it as a dining room every warm day. There was a round table and two chairs, some plants and a couch, where they relaxed or... well, had sex. The floor was marble, as was the railing.

“You like it, Ichi?” Nnoitra grinned when he heard his little lover moan lowly. He had his right arm around Ichigo's chest, teasingly close to his nipples, his other one touched the hem of the skirt, pulling it up to caress the orangette's thigh, before dipping between his legs, fingers running lightly along Ichigo's erection, covered by black panties.

He let out a moan of his own when Ichigo pulled his right hand to his mouth, catching his fingers with his pretty pink tongue. He grinned sadistically and leaned down to play with Ichigo's ear, thrusting a finger into his lover's mouth and out, in and out, while Ichigo tried to catch it with his tongue. As he succeed, he sucked in another two fingers, covering them in saliva. “That's right, make them nice and wet, 'cause that all lube you're gonna get this time,” he purred into his lover's ear, while pulling the panties down and getting a hold of Ichigo's straining member.

“You might want to hurry up or I might eat 'em,” Ichigo said, voice muffled around the digits. He sucked at them, using them to contain his moans and whimpers – or at least the louder ones – as Nnoitra stroked him in slow motions, his hard on rubbing against the small of Ichigo's back. After a while the movement stopped and Nnoitra pulled his hands away, giving a slap to his left thigh, which was a bit more sensitive than the other.

“Step out of your underwear and bend over the arm-rest,” the command was quiet, but firm, and he did as he was told without hesitation, eager for the real action.

He quickly stepped out of his panties and threw them to a random direction, not caring where they landed. He quickly went to the couch and lied over the arm-rest so his stomach was pressed to it, and he was facing the city. The couch itself was high, custom-made for Nnoitra's long legs, so his knees wouldn't be eye-level – and the arm-rests were even higher – which sometimes seemed to be over-exaggerated for a place like this and made Ichigo look tiny. But, in reality, to Ichigo it was just the right height, so he could relax his legs. His butt was up in the air, and his face pressed into the seat, as he willed his body to relax before any kind of intrusion.

The moment he settled, Nnoitra was behind him, his left hand grabbed onto his ass-cheek, the wet fingers of the other one teased Ichigo's ass hole. The first finger went in at an annoyingly slow pace, producing annoying friction. It wasn't until the third one was pushed into his tight passage that Ichigo had to bite his bottom-lip not to moan too loudly. Even though Nnoitra's long fingers made everything to avoid his prostate, the feeling of his hole being stretched and filled, and the short flows of cool air against his anus kept his arousal at a high level.

Then the taller man inserted the fourth finger and Ichigo almost released. “Nnoi,” he moaned his lovers name, “please,” he pleaded for him to hurry. Not long after, the fingers were replaced by a hot, hard erection, making Ichigo arch his back and moan. He never screamed during sex, even when they were fucking in their bedroom, guarded by walls and curtains. He thought people screamed for the lack of pleasure, which was certainly not his case.

Nnoitra grinned, and his eyes fluttered half-closed at his lover's delicious moans and whimpers. He watched his cock disappear into Ichigo's tight rosy hole and come back out again. The orangette's ass cheeks were rosy too from all the kneading and occasional slaps. He traced those rosy plains, before grabbing them harshly; he knew every square centimeter of them, since Ichigo tricked him into massaging his backside when it got too sore after sex – pervy little bastard – a lot of times.

He got an idea then and leaned down, loser to Ichigo, to get a better look at his face. It was flushed, the eyes were shut, and the bottom lip was red from biting. And it was obvious that Ichigo was thinking about things he shouldn't at a moment like this. He moved a few locks away from Ichigo's forehead, and traced for his arms to cross them behind Ichigo's back. Nnoitra loved how flexible Ichigo was. He held his lover by his crossed arms and snapped his hips forward to get deeper in. “Don't space out on me, baby.”

“I'm not,” stuttered Ichigo, “I, oh... I just remembered how we fucked the first day after moving into this apartment.”

Nnoitra groaned at that, the images of that hot night of rough loving that nearly killed their new bed attacked his vision. It didn't take him long to cum after that, and as soon as his head stopped spinning, he lifted Ichigo up and spun him around. Getting onto his knees, he held skirt up above Ichigo's hips and took his still hard cock into his mouth, sucking it like a lollipop.

Ichigo thought his nose would bleed, and his knees buckled when Nnoitra slipped his fingers into his asshole, pushing the cum out and hitting his prostate with every move. He had to brace himself on his lover's shoulders or he sure would have fallen to the ground. He was in bliss from the friction on his front and behind for several long moments, and the next he knew he was cumming and trembling, and Nnoi lowered them to the ground. And kissed his forehead, and nose, and lips.

They stayed like that, on the floor of the terrace, for sometime, until their skin cooled down. “C'mon, Ichi. Go shower, and I'll clean this bit of mess we made,” Nnoitra said, helping Ichigo stand up and fix his clothes.

By the time he cleaned the floor and had a fix from his e-cigarette, Ichigo was already in bed, wearing his peach-colored PJ's, staring into space. And if Nnoitra didn't know any better, he would have though the orangette was scowling, but in reality, it was Ichigo's way of pouting, and he even knew what caused it.

“You know, you threw your panties out on the street.”

“Yeah.”

“Aw, don't pout, I'll buy you a new pair,” Nnoitra said, as he walked to the dresser and changed into his black pajama pants.

“I'm not pouting.”

“Yes you are.”

“Say that again and I will paint all of your white clothes pink,” Ichigo threatened, as Nnoitra joined him in bed. “Hey, aren't you going to shower?”

“Nah,” Nnoitra leaned in for a kiss, while switching off the light. “You know, it's like you eat something really delicious and then you don't want to brush your teeth, because the taste will go away.”

“Ew, pervert.”

“Right back at you, Berry.”

They lied in silence for some time, listening to the sound of passing late car.

“Good night.”

“'Night.”

**Author's Note:**

> One day, while on my way from the Uni and to the shopping center, I saw dirty crumpled panties lying on the street. The hell they were doing there I don't know, but they wouldn't leave my mind for the rest of the day, and that's when I came up with some smut. Oh, and to see Ichigo's shoes type in Google "steve madden ultimate magenta", their lovely, but imagine they're purple.


End file.
